


Kinktober 2018

by Guilt Guy (nyare)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Androids, Asphyxiation, Begging, Blow Jobs, Dangerous misuse of workforce androids, Deepthroating, Kinktober, M/M, Omorashi, Oral Sex, Robot Kink, Robot/Human Relationships, Safewords, Some Humor, Watersports
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-24 00:00:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16169444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyare/pseuds/Guilt%20Guy
Summary: A collection of kinky short fictions. Have fun, go wild.





	1. Day One: Deepthroating

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Twitter Jericho's discussion of if Connor can actually deepthroat Hank's dick or not.  
> This turned into a lot more robo-kink than I intended but I'm not apologizing for it.  
> Unbeta-ed as fuck.

“Are you certain this is going to work?” Hank asks, his hand cupped over Connor’s cheek.

Connor looks up from his position, hands tucked into his lap and legs folded neatly under him in a position that would restrict blood flow in a human. He tilts his head into Hank’s hand as he delivers his reply as calmly as he’s always spoken. “Certain, no. But I calculate an eighty-six percent degree of probability that it will, which is higher than most probability outcomes I pursue.”

Hank laughs, nervous, and tilts his head back. “Well ain't that just peachy, kitten. This is my dick we’re talking about, not the chance of catching some perp.”

Connor makes the decision not to tell Hank most of his calculations involve his own safety comparative to a missions success. Last time he’d decided a life-or-death situation on probability, Hank had gotten mad at him. Instead, he leans in, nuzzling against the fabric of Hank’s jeans until he hears the human suck in a breath. There's a smile hidden in denim as Connor replies, “I would not risk your life or your physical pleasure just for trying something new, Hank. Please, trust me. Remember the safeword?”

“Yeah.. Ectoplasm. Got it.” The way Hank’s voice wavers is telling for how interested he is. Connor really should spend some more time digging through Hank’s porn. So far it’s only been a benefit to their sexual relationship.

Connor hums a pleased tune as his teeth close over the zipper of Hank’s jeans, and pull it down. Above him, Hank’s voice breathes out a muffled “Jesus,” that tells Connor he’s got a hand over his mouth. So he’s doing this right. Important for future reference. Unfortunately the button gives him more trouble. It takes a second to get his teeth between the fabric where he can leverage the button out of the slit, but the resulting “Fuuuuuuck,” from Hank is worth the effort.

Hank's hand slides from Connor's cheek to his hair, and grips lightly. The android hums as he noses against the bulge in Hank’s underwear, and spends .027 nanoseconds weighing the benefits of encouraging Hank to hold tighter. The side in favor wins out, as he exhales hot air on the cotton against his face. “You don't have to be gentle with me, Hank,” and even though Hank says nothing, the twitch in his boxers says everything. The androids hides his smile by mouthing along the outline of his lovers cock. The fabric is 95% cotton, 5% synthetic polymer, contaminated with trace amounts of sweat, dead skin, and dog fur. Connor turns off his oral analysis subroutine. It’s easier to focus if he’s not counting the ratio of pubic hairs to strands of dog fur. Sexier, too.

His tongue slips out and teases the head of Hank’s dick, dragging against the fabric and lighting up Connor’s sensors. Already, there’s a pop-up to the side of his HUD: _temperature three degrees above optimal level._ Connor dismisses it and wraps his lips around the head and applies suction until Hank actually yanks at his hair to pull him off. There’s a smirk buried in the slight tilt of Connor’s lips as he looks up at his boyfriend with wide brown eyes. Hank can only look at him for a moment before looking away to hide the flush on his cheeks, and growls out “Get on with it.”

Any other day, he’d have spent his time teasing, but he’s too eager for that now. In one fluid motion, Connor reaches up and pulls boxers and jeans down together to Hank’s mid-thigh, leaving him exposed. He’s mostly hard already, the head of his cock beaded with the smallest drop of pre that Connor is happy to lap up. He tongues at the slit and then at his foreskin, recording every reaction he gets. Even the minutiae of his breath stutters, or the subtle shift of his fingers in Connor’s hair; it’s all worth memorizing. Worth it because it's Hank, and Connor loves him, wants to show his adoration however he can. Even if that means knowing the intricacies of his blowjob preferences. _Especially_ if it means knowing how to make him tick. The android can't pull back his smile as he licks down the length of his lovers cock and nuzzles into the messy nest of salt-and-pepper pubes at the base. He’s happy to mouth along the side, tracing every vein and grazing his teeth on sensitive skin just enough to make Hank shudder. Just enough that Hank tugs his hair and bucks his hips, to Connor’s delight. He looks up with self-satisfaction in an expression only Hank could read, and murmurs against velvet skin, “You’re not being very patient tonight, Hank.”

Hank groans, fisting Connor’s hair tighter, and replies, “It’s hard to be patient when I have a brat mouthing at my cock like a kitten who got the cream.”

“You like it.”

“That’s the problem, sweetheart,” and Connor smiles again as he finally takes the head of Hank’s dick into his mouth. He knows from Hank’s porn he has a _thing_ for deepthroating, knows he’s got fantasies about fucking someone's face until they choke. Knows Hank likes the teasing and the buildup just as much as he likes the grand finale. He dips his tongue under Hank's foreskin and pulls it back, exposing the sensitive crown as Connor sucks until the human groans out a stuttering, breathy sound. It’s a low, heavy vibrato that settles in his chest in the most pleasing of ways. Connor’s eyes flutter closed as he leans in and takes more of Hank’s cock into his mouth and enjoys the way his sensors read the information. It’s not _quite_ the same as pleasure, he doesn’t think, but he likes it nonetheless. 23,000 receptors in his mouth alone, over double the amount of tastebuds an average human has. It’s easy to overload his system when messing with them, and a software failure from overstimulation is _damn close_ to a fantastic orgasm. He should know. It’s happened a few times now.

When Connor pops off again, and drags his lips and tongue down the underside of Hank’s cock, nuzzles up against his balls, the human is fully hard. His foreskin is pulled back halfway, exposing the red crown as his dick weighs heavily in the air and rests on Connor's cheek. The android takes his time getting back to it, though. It’s pleasing to nip at the sensitive skin of his balls, nose his way up to the crease of his thigh and bite down until Hank hisses and yanks him off. Connor let's his mouth hang open, tongue just barely peeking out beyond his lower lip, and bats his eyes in a way that can mean nothing less than “Please fuck my mouth, Lieutenant Anderson.”

Hank stares at Connor for a second, the perfect picture of a submissive waiting for his master's cock, and feels his heartbeat stutter. Even his voice shakes as he mutters out “You’re gonna be the death of me, Con,” and the smile at the edge of the androids lips is all to telling for his opinion of that.

Hank can practically hear him saying “I’d never let it happen,” in that way he does, with the affectionate lilt to his voice he doesn’t use for anyone else. The blush on Hank’s face deepens and spreads to his neck, and he’s glad Connor can’t see it from his position. The teasing would be relentless.

Grabbing the base of his cock, Hank guides himself into Connor's mouth and watches the way his LED flickers blue-yellow-blue--solid yellow. Without Hank’s grasp on the subtlety of Connor’s expressions, the LED is the most telling way to read his emotions. Hank would feel bad about Connor’s inability to hide his emotions if the android weren’t also capable of reading Hank’s heartbeat, internal temperature, and pupil dilation. There’s not much hidden between them, at least. Pressing forward, Hank keeps his eyes trained on that circling light. Even smiles to himself when red flickers into the yellow for half a second as his cock reaches the end of the androids “mouth”, and nudges up against the opening there. Already he can tell it’s gonna be a tight squeeze, but Connor shudders and it seems to open up some. Hank pushes forward, holding Connor in place by his hair, and groans at the feeling of the ring dragging down his cock. As he slides into place in Connor's throat, Hank is viscerally aware of the shift of metal around his dick. It’s a completely different feeling from the oral he’s used to. Aside from the ring of synthetic muscle at the back of his mouth, there's no sheath of flesh around him. Just the flex of cables and the vibration of Connor’s voice modulator. It’s tighter than he should be comfortable with, but it just sends a thrill up his spine. He'd be lying if he said the danger of having his cock right next to a bunch of working parts didn't turn him on more than it should. Cables and tubing shift at the underside of his dick, and exposed wires drag along the sides with every movement Connor makes. Even those hyper-textured fleshlights had jack shit on the feeling of an RK800’s throat. The vice like squeeze at the end of his throat proper, opening up into the exposed mechanics; the hot air combined with the cool temperature of Connor’s tongue; even the dryness, his mouth slicked only by whatever fluid Connor downed like a shot before settling into place; it’s a hell of an experience.

Connor sighs softly, his chest rising and falling, while hot air ghosts along the member in his throat and exhales through his nose. So he can still breathe, sort of. Good to know. System errors pop up, warning in bright red lettering _, Obstruction detected in throat, removal required._ Dismissed, again. _Temperature six degrees above optimal,_ dismissed. _Unable to vent excess heat_ , dismissed. Unimportant in the face of what he’s trying to accomplish right now. Training his eyes up towards Hank, Connor speaks. “You can move any time like you like, Lieutenant.” The sound comes out mechanical, the most computer-like voice Connor’s ever used, and it throws Hank off for a moment.

“What the fuck is wrong with your voice?” He asks, voice dipped in curiosity and confusion.

“My voice modulator is designed to create sound like vocal chords, but androids require the articulation of tongues and breath to make our voices sound human.”

Hank rubs his thumb over Connor’s temple, tracing the circular blue-yellow-blue of his LED. “Neato.”

Connor’s chest shakes in a silent laugh at Hank’s choice of words. They stay like that a moment, comfortable and quiet, before Hank’s impatience get the better of him. He heaves a sigh and curls his fingers tight in Connor’s hair before starting to pull back, and _fuck_ if he thought going in was intense, coming back out is even more. The ring of synthetic muscle catches at the crown of his dick and makes for a delicious drag that has him moaning underneath his breath. After a few steady strokes in and out, Hank starts to build a slow rhythm. He aquantints himself with the movement of the androids throat and the lazy curl of Connor’s tongue on the underside of his cock. For a combat-equipped detective android, Connor is devastatingly good at giving a blowjob.

With his eyes closed, Connor keeps himself busy enjoying the sensation of Hank in his mouth, the delicate feeling of tracing veins with the tip of his tongue. It’s only when more errors display on his HUD does the android open his eyes.

 _Fifteen degrees above optimal temperature. System critical._ Dismiss- _Erorr cannot be dismissed. Shutdown in 5:00._

Connor reaches up and taps Hank’s thigh. His voice modulator vibrates against the dick his his throat as he says, “Faster, please.” Hank is eager to comply, fisting his free hand in Connor’s hair, and uses the extra leverage to fuck harder, faster.

_Shutdown in 4:30._

The additional force lights up Connor’s receptors and starts to overload his system. He feels his jaw spasm until Hank releases his hair and grabs him by the cheek instead, thumb jammed between his teeth and keeping him from biting down. “None of that now,” Hank growls, breathy. Needy.

_Shutdown in 4:00._

It’s too much; Connor feels his chest heave with the need for fresh air, need to vent his additional heat. Need to _come_. He feels like he’s drowning in his own desire. The moan that vibrates from his voicebox glitches, telling for how worked up he is. Hank can see it in his LED too, flipping red-yellow-red-yellow--solid red, when Hank snaps his hips with enough force to make Connor jerk even with the hands holding his head in place.

_Shutdown in 3:30._

Connor’s hands twitch and flex against his thighs, grabbing fistfuls of the fleece wrapping his legs. His spine arches and he can feel it, the moment he flips over. He goes from shaking to stiff, jaw locking and eyes blinking rapidly as his processor tries and fails to read the input. The world drowns in audio static and his vision swims into a solid blur of red in the silhouette of Hank.

_Shutdown in 3:00._

“Holy shit, Con, did you just,” Hank’s voice cracks, and he doesn't need an answer to know. The flickering red-grey-red of Connor’s LED is proof enough. It only takes one more thrust into the buzzing of his throat for Hank to finish too, burying himself as deep as he can get.

_Shutdown in 2:30._

They stay motionless for a moment while they recover, Hank leaned over Connor’s prone, kneeling form. And then the human retracts, groans low and deep as he pulls out of his boyfriend's mouth. His hand curls gently around the androids cheek as he starts to come back online, and Hank pops the question. “You alright?”

Hot air blows from Connor’s mouth as he’s finally able to vent his heat, and he sucks in the fresh air like a drowning man. It takes a second of heavy breathing before he finally responds with a nod, and looks up at Hank with adoration. _Seven degrees above optimal temperature. System stabilizing._

When he speaks, what comes out is nothing more than mangled static. The both of them pause for a second as Connor runs a diagnostic. His LED cycles yellow-blue-yellow--solid blue, and then he laughs. The sound is still more broken static, though some of it comes through.

Hank seems more concerned as he tips Connor’s head back to get a better look at him. “What the fuck happened? Did I break you?”

Connor shakes his head, and his throat bobs as he seems to swallow. Finally, his voice comes out as complete words, still interlaced with static that, at one point, shorts out his words. “You got come in my _ksssht_ modulator.”

“Oh, fuck.” Hank kneels to get down to Connor’s level, a lingering flush spread across his cheeks. Connor calculates it's 56% arousal and 44% embarrassment, though there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s not the first time Connor’s had seminal fluid in one of his mechanics. There’s a hiss of air as Hank clicks open the plating on Connor’s throat and the plastic falls away, leaving the android’s inner components exposed. Thick fingers press into the cabling, working past the fine mechanics, and jolt static electricity into short circuits. Another hiss comes from the humans lungs as he leans in, breathing out “Let me help you clean up,” and gives Connor a smile that makes the android shiver. He always did like Hank’s hands inside him, after all.


	2. Day Two: Wattersports/Begging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Technically this is omorashi but you know what??? Piss is piss. Unfortunately not as much begging as there could have been.

Connor instituted a new rule to encourage Hank to drink less, and it worked because it didn't take away any of his decision to drink. Simply put, Hank could drink all he liked, but he’s not allowed to piss until he’s sober. It sounded like a great idea at first, way better than being being treated like a child, with Connor portioning out his alcohol down to the last meager drop. He appreciates Connor’s efforts to help his his alcoholism, he really does. But Hank’s had a problem with authority since he was a kid, and the one thing he hated more than being told how to take care of himself, was getting in fights with Connor. So he’d gladly accepted the compromise, thinking he’d be able to hold himself no problem.

He’d been a fucking idiot, of course. For one, he forgot how much of a goddamn sadist Connor could be. That’s why his dumb drunk ass is leaning against Connor’s immobile body at two something AM, trying to get past him and into the bathroom. They can both tell Hank’s getting absolutely nowhere with the attempt, but that hardly stops him from trying. A hand slips around Connor’s waist, fingers grasping for the door handle, only for his wrist to be caught by the android and pushed back.

“No, Hank.” Connor tells him, without a trace of upset. Just his cool, even voice, like he’s reminding Hank that Sumo has a vet appointment tomorrow.

Drunk as he is, Hank can't help but whine as he slumps forward into his boyfriend's body. “Please, I have to piss so bad. 'M fuckin’ sorry for drinking so much.”

“I know you are, but you know the rule.”

“I have to piss, Con. Please lemme through.”

Connor reaches up to cup Hank’s cheek, his eyes narrowed in fondness. “No using the bathroom until you’re sober. That’s what I told you, and you agreed.”  
Hank lets out a broken sob, unable to take his mind off the ache in his bladder. It fucking hurts how bad he has to go. Goddamn Connor for making him drink water with his whiskey. Goddamn himself for being an alcoholic idiot.

A sigh rises from Connor's chest as he pulls Hank back enough to get him to look the android in the eye. “I said no using the bathroom, Lieutenant.” Hank blinks, confused, until Connor continues. “I never said you couldn’t relieve yourself.”

The information takes a minute to sink into Hank’s whiskey-soaked brain. Once it does, the blush of his cheeks goes from a drunk rose color, to bright red. “No, no no. I’m not a fucking-” Hank cuts off,at a loss for words. He stares into the distance for a moment before coming back, looking Connor in the eye as well as he can while the world swims. “I’m not pissing myself.”

Connor leans in to kiss Hank’s neck, and the human sees a flash of the doorknob behind him. He goes for it, and just ends up with Connor’s hand wrapped around his wrist once again. And then he steps forward, knocks off Hank’s unsteady balance, and the human stumbles backwards until his back hits the far wall. Connor looms over him with an intimidating presence, grabbing Hank’s other wrist and dragging his arms up above his head. He easily pins his wrists to the wall with one hand, and Hank whimpers at the display.

“You’ll feel better if you let go,” Connor murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of Hank’s ear. For a moment Hank wishes his dick weren’t so goddamn interested in the way he’s being treated. But then there’s a hand pushing gently at his bladder, and Hank chokes as he tries to back away. The wall keeps him pinned, so Connor can press and rub all he likes, until Hank is shaking with the effort to hold back the damn.

“P-please, no,” Hank whines, trying to twist away.

Connor hums, letting up on some of the pressure, and breathes out, “Remember your safeword?”

For a long second, Hank debates shaking his head, but he finally answers a broken “Yes,” and he can feel Connor smile into the side of his face.

“Good,” and the pressure is back, massaging careful circles into his stomach that makes Hank’s legs want to give out.

He moans low in his throat, and the second he starts to relax, a small dribble escapes his flaccid dick. Instantly, Hank clenches down and stops the flow, but it's too late. Connor saw his moment of weakness, and now instead of gentle encouragement, his palm is pressed flat against Hank’s bladder. Hank openly sobs, gasping out “No, wait. I don’t want to-” before his body betrays him. Relief washes over him in a wave as Hank starts to piss in the confines of his jeans. Unable to stop himself again now that the seals been broken, Hank’s voice rolls out low and unbridled from his throat. “Fffffffuuuuuck,”

“You’re doing great, Hank,” Connor encourages, leaning in to kiss the tears from his eyes. His legs give out and Hank’s weight sags against the wall until he’s only held up by the grip on his wrists.  
After what feels like forever, the stream finally slows to a stop, and Hank’s chest heaves as he squirms in place. His jeans are soaked from his inner thighs all the way down, and there’s a steady drip, drip, drip, from the fabric being unable to hold any of the excess fluid. Even with the burn of shame in his cheeks and the heavy weight of horror in his stomach, Hank can't stop floating on the euphoria if how fucking good it felt. How good he still feels from the absolute relief of pressure. He rides that feeling for a minute, leaning forward into Connor's chest and taking his time to catch his breath, before reality starts to hit him. He fucking pissed himself. In front of his android boyfriend. Regardless of the fact that Connor encouraged it, Hank can feel his throat tighten with the need to cry.

As if reading his mind, Connor drops Hank’s wrists and smooths his hand over the broad expanse of his back, shh-ing him softly. “It’s alright, Hank.”

“'M a disgusting fuckin’ drunk.” Hank mumbles back, his voice choked.

“You’re my drunk, and I wouldn't change you for the world. Come on,” and then he’s slipping an arm around his back to support him, taking on Hank’s weight enough that he can carry him to the bathroom. “Let’s get you in the shower and sobered up.”

When Connor turns his head to smile at him, Hank feels like he’s staring at the sun. Or maybe at a goddamn angel, one of those biblical motherfuckers that burns out the eyes of any human who takes a peek. He can’t find a voice to complain when Connor leads him into the bathroom and strips him of his clothes, props him against the wall to strip himself and run the shower until steam rises from the porcelain. Connor guides Hank in before following himself, and sets them both down under the stream. Leaning back into Connor’s chest and resting his head on his shoulder, Hank feels some of the tightness in his chest loosen. Connor kisses his temple, and Hank mutters out “I love you,”

Connor’s voice is crystal clear as it rings through the steady rain of water and reverberates through the bathroom. “I love you too, Hank.”

**Author's Note:**

> Catch me on twitter @VaginaDentatas where I yell about how Dabid Cabe's android design is absolute bullshit.


End file.
